Big Game Hunting
by solaas
Summary: Someone goes hunting, and finds tougher game than they bargained for. -- Amber setting, use of other fictional shadows (worlds) without shame; in this one it's the In Nomine RPG.


A relentless hunter moved with swift, untiring strides across the the valley's autumn floor. His prey wasn't far ahead now, and from the tracks left in the fallen leaf he could see that the one he was following was slowing down.

Laurence, Malakite Archangel of the Sword, nodded grimly to himself, and paused only the merest flicker of an instant to sort out the landscape around him through all his senses. While a human vessel was woefully inadequate in separated areas of expertise, if could be honed into an instrument of exquisite perfection when you worked all its functions and senses together in harmony. Few humans learned to do this, but those few were fearsome creatures in their own right.

Unhampered by humanity, he had taken to their form with a unique perspective, namely the that of one that would never, ever allow for less than total perfection. No matter which form he chose, it would always be efficient and always be perfected within its boundaries and limitations.

The prey was ... well, he was pretty sure it wasn't a human being. It had _looked_ like a man when he fought it, but since his resonances hadn't given him any information, there were really only two possibilities: This was either a Demon Prince up to some trick or other, or an Ethereal god. The latter was by far the less believable option, since the only ones left with enough power to block him were the Hindu pantheon, and none of them were stupid enough to antagonise the Lord Commander of God's Army on Earth. Moreover, why _would_ they?

There was a third option, but this he gave next to no thought at all. The idea of a remnant with enough prowess to stand against Laurence in a fight and then get away, was simply preposterous. Besides, his Hunt-sense would hardly have worked on one of the empty ones.

No, Laurence was quite certain that this "man" he had fought a few days back was one of the Infernal Royalty, and he was dead set on reminding whoever this was just _why_ the Archangel of the Sword was one of the most fearsome angels alive. His oaths and his code of honour demanded no less of him. A strike against Heaven would not, could not, be tolerated. Ever.

He continued on, letting the sharp, clarion call of his Hunt attunement pull him toward his target. The air was clear, fresh and cool, heralding a winter what was already moving in on the surrounding mountain tops. This was a good day to hunt, and a good day to kill. Every detail about the scenery around him got noted and carefully marked off at the back of his mind. The battlefield would be in this area, and he mentally prepared it as he moved through the foliage. His whole being was humming with anticipation of the coming confrontation, mind sharpened and blade at the ready.

Suddenly _something_ rose like a vengeful spirit out from a salix thicket, just as the Archangel passed by. A spike of shock and excitement shot up Laurence's spine as he whipped around to meet the attack. He'd almost missed the hidden assailant! This was truly a skilled adversary.

The cold ring of steel on steel sang out in the quiet valley as swords met; one intending to kill, the other defending. Now they were face to face, Archangel and Unknown.

Laurence was short in stature, black-haired and just shy of 165 cm tall, seemingly frail in build. Few pegged him wrong though, because his entire being radiated focus and disciplined power. The sheer force of him added a height and a width to him that the soul and spirit of those he met noticed and bowed to immediately, even though this quality couldn't be seen with the naked eye. Any lingering doubts would be wiped away the instant he lifted his eyes and stared into the doubter's with a piercing black-brown look of purest intention.

His opponent was as tall as the other was short, closing in on 190 cm, but he too was thin and lanky of body. He had dull brown hair gathered in a pony tail, and brown eyes in a dour face that gave away as many clues to the man's feelings and purpose as the average rock. A camo-painted one. Like Laurence, he had an aura of command about him, but it was much more understated. Clotheswise, he was equipped for the chase he'd lead the Archangel into. Green and brown camo fabrics that made for a minimum of noise and a maximum of camouflage.

"State your name, alignment and rank!" Laurence demanded as they sized each other up. The tall man didn't answer, he just took a step back and readied his weapon. His movements were precise and efficient, with no unnecessary use of energy, and there were no hints of fear or uncertainty in his eyes. Laurence knew of only one entity besides Michael who would face him with such an amount of confidence...

The man launched another attack, and came at Laurence with a flurry of slashes and and stabs, all of which the angel parried and dodged elegantly before throwing himself into a counter-attack. His opponent blocked all his efforts without even breaking a sweat.

"I ask again that you reveal your identity," Laurence urged as they circled each other, trying to spot any openings. "I would hate to have to chisel "Sir Nameless" on your headstone, after all."

"Less talk, more focus," grunted the other and proceeded to feint so cleverly that Laurence got off balance for a short moment. That moment was more than enough time for the rake to deliver a brutal kick to Laurence's midriff, slamming him back-first into a tree a few feet away.

Laurence was shocked and winded, but fell immediately into a defensive crouch; ready to meet his prey as the tall man closed the distance between them. There was no doubt about it now, this had to be Baal, Demon Prince of the War. He was the only demon around with that much skill, but the question that really nagged Laurence was _why_ the War had lead him on this merry chase.

The nagging stopped momentarily as Laurence had to focus all his capabilities on parrying and defending himself from the far too quick attacks delivered with clinical precision. As he ducked in order to ensure that his head remained attached, the other's sword chopped out a chunk of the tree.

"Hey!" called out a rich and distinctly female voice in protest. "Be careful, guys! That's a very old and venerable rowan tree, you know."

The two sword-fighters dove apart and crouched warily, eyeing each other like cats. Both of them had noticed that the other had winced just so upon hearing that voice, but neither acknowledged it.

Light, swishy footsteps came closer and with them followed something like a hush. All around them, nature seemed to breathe out and relax. The colours grew deeper and brighter, the air felt just a wee bit warmer and a hint of earthy fragrance spread through it. In the hearts of all living things in the area there grew a feeling that all was right in the world, even if just for the moment.

She stepped around a blackberry thicket, and passed the two swordsmen with her hand outstretched toward the wounded tree. With a light touch and a melodic whisper, she closed the cut and the yellow-leafed rowan, heavy with berries, was as good as new. Then the woman turned around and regarded the two men. She had green eyes, red-blond hair, tanned skin that bespoke much time being spend outdoors, and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. She was dressed in simple jeans, a flannel shirt and a bright red goretex jacket, but her feet were curiously bare. A wide, generous mouth, perfect for laughing, smiling and kissing was set in an uncustommary tight frown, and she folded her arms over her chest.

"Please explain to me why you're violating my grove?" she demanded softly, not even bothering to ask their names.

It was plenty obvious from her disappointed look that she knew them both, and this made Laurence pause. He was severely annoyed by her interference, as always, but this time there was something more than just the usual irreverent peacemongering so favoured by the Archangel of Flowers.

"Ah, Lady Novalis," Laurence started politely and raising his sword in a formal salute. "I was not aware that this was one of your places. I have been Hunting this one, and he lead me here..." He gestured to the tall man who stood a few paces away, relaxed and unreadable but with his sword at the ready.

"Is that your version too?" she asked the other man and turned to eye him. "And could you both please put those swords away? You can't continue your duel here."

The lanky guy nodded once, and after a short pause added a grunt that probably meant 'Yes'. He looked over at Laurence and raised an eyebrow slightly, lowering his sword.

Laurence's lips thinned and the bulging of his jaw muscles plainly showed that he wasn't pleased with the current development, but if this was indeed a place holy to Flowers, it would be wrong to defile it with acts of war. He nodded to his adversary and sheathed his blade in almost perfect time with the other.

"I'm still waiting for the explanation, boys," Novalis reminded them. She was trying to sound stern, but it failed as her satisfaction with the sheathed swords spread over her face. Her visage softened into a fond, dimply smile that had the larger part of Laurence screaming in frustration, while a smaller, more elusive part of him settled down with a cup of cocoa and a resigned smile.

Glaring daggers at his fellow Archangel, Laurence opened his mouth to answer her, only to be intercepted by the other man.

"I was testing him, Lady Novalis. We fought five days ago, I disengaged while he was distracted, and headed for better terrain. And so we're here," the tall guy curtly informed her.

Novalis blinked at him. "That's it? Fight, flight, new fight?"

"Fight, _chase_, new fight," the dour warrior corrected her.

She flicked her hand in the 'whatever'-gesture, but before she could say anything, Laurence broke in.

"Excuse me, but did you just say you were _testing me_?", he asked the other man angrily. The uncaring arrogance of this nameless cur was really getting under his skin. "Just who exactly do you think you are?"

"Yes," answered the other and simply ignored Laurence's second question.

Novalis sighed "Benedict..." in a faintly disapproving voice, then clamped her hands over her mouth in wide-eyed consternation.

"_Benedict?!_", snapped Laurence, confusion now adding fuel to his bad mood. "I demand an explanation and I want it _now_," he added in a dangerously sharp voice. He'd had quite enough of this mystery. "Who is this creature, what is he, and how do you know him?"

Novalis winced and shuffled her feet nervously. "Um ... Benny's a friend and kind of, er, a unique... Ah, he's..." Her voice trailed off and she looked desperately at the silent man.

Benedict rolled his eyes faintly and crossed his arms over his chest, while Laurence narrowed his eyes to slits. "He's what?" he urged quietly, then drew a deep breath and vocalised his ultimate rank and mandate. "**SPEAK!**" thundered the voice of the Lord Commander, and there could be no more argument or dragging of feet.

Novalis was about to blurt out with the answer, but Benedict raised his voice. "I will speak!"

Benedict turned to face Laurence head on, and seemed to concentrate for a moment. Certainly not the usual reaction to the Voice, but if it got him some actual _answers_, Laurence was willing to let that concern drop.

"**THEN SPEAK, _BENEDICT_.**"

"I am first going to ask that you resonate me again, Lord Commander," said Benedict calmly. "Use all of them."

Novalis turned her head sharply and eyed him intently, as did Laurence.

And what Laurence found when he reached out with his resonances was enough to bring him to his knees in an instant. The intense, glowing _power_ that suffused the one who called himself Benedict was beyond anything Laurence had ever experienced; up to and including receiving his status as Archangel and position as Lord Commander. It was impossible to make out any kind of details; the overwhelming force and carved-in-stone _finality_ short-circuited his senses.

Novalis blinked as she saw Laurence kneel and bow his head in submission. Then she looked at Benedict and would probably have fallen over as well, had she not been prepared.

"Does this answer your questions, Archangel Laurence?" Benedict inquired patiently.

Laurence struggled to look up at the ... his mind balked and refused to name the entity standing before him. Eyes shining, he reverently nodded. "Aye, my Lord. I humbly beg that you forgive my respectless beh..." He stopped when Benedict lifted a hand to quiet him.

"Good. Be forgiven and go in peace, Laurence. Passed and dismissed."

"Thy will be done, my Lord." With that, Laurence rose and left the place.

---

Benedict breathed out a small sigh, releasing the image of the Pattern from his mind. "Novalis, please walk with me?"

She hurried over to her uncle, and slipped a hand around his arm. "Did you really have to do that, Ben? Now he thinks he's met God, and it's totally untrue!" she chided gently.

"Would you rather he know the truth?" he inquired calmly as they walked. The paint on his face disappeared, and his clothes gradually changed to become more regular wear; conservative brown and green hiker's clothes.

A pause followed by a sigh was all the answer he needed, but of course he had to get the commentary as well. "No, no. You're right. He wouldn't understand, and he'd just feel all kinds of betrayed and angry and miserable. But really, _testing_ him? What were you gonna do to him? Kill that avatar or what? I don't remember inviting you to go hunting back there..." Novalis looked up at Benedict with a slight pout. "Besides, if you're looking for a challenge then Michael's your angel. He kicked Laurence's ass once, and he can do it again."

"Yes. I trained him myself."

Novalis gaped and Benedict smirked faintly. "I'll tell you all about it over dinner, hm?" His smirk softened imperceptibly as her face lit up in a delighted beam.

"Okay, that's too good an offer to pass up. Let's jet!" she chirped and set off with Benedict in tow.

* * *


End file.
